


no filter

by allsovacant



Series: johnlock•actually [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Blow Jobs, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, Freeform, Johnlock Roulette, LMAO my tags, M/M, Not Beta Read, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Display of Affection, as usual not good at tags, low-key porn, okay. A bit of plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 19:59:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19341574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allsovacant/pseuds/allsovacant
Summary: "Come here, I want to taste you," John whispers, breathes, his voice ragged, clouded with desire. Never in his life he felt this strong for someone. Not for a woman, not even a man.—unbeta'ed for the love of mistakes—





	no filter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bluebuell33](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluebuell33/gifts).



> Some low-key porn I've written at the crack of dawn. And yes, I didn't sleep. Too many voices in the darkness. Also, a little offer for the #Always1895 June 2019 prompt: First Kiss

The rhythmic movement of sweat-drenched bodies, swaying to the loud music welcomed John as he entered  _Pride Haven_. One of the most famous LGBTQ+ club in London and owned by his friend Mike Stamford. The sultry blend of dancing lights and puffs of smoke surrounded him and somehow made him feel free.

  
Still, at the age of forty, this was not John's scene. Honestly, he was usually seen visiting the same old coffee shop, within thirty minute-walk from the army-issued apartment where he stayed. He was usually seen sitting at Regent's Park at four in the morning, fresh from his bed, fresh from his nightmares. He's just sitting, staring at the pond, staring at the sky, waiting for the sun to come up, pretending to be deaf from his own war inside his head pretending to be home. A walk in the park made living a bit easier, just clearing his thoughts before it killed him.

Back to the venue, if this was twenty-two years ago, though, maybe, it could be his scene.

Unfortunately, being an invalid army veteran doctor like him wouldn't really indulge on places like this. And yet here he is, dressed in his most presentable casual clothes. A black jacket over his green plaid button shirt, worn-out jeans and loafers. Here he is and that is only because he met Mike Stamford, a former university classmate, and a good friend, the other day, suggesting that he should go out and enjoy more before he waste away like his other mates in the army. They did got out of war, he was invalided and alive, however, the mind's of his brother's at arms never got out of the war. He was so close to be like them, he didn't want that. That's why he put up with his therapy, even if it doesn't do anything different from him. But Mike's words put him where he is right now. Pride Haven.

_"Just visit John, my Meg would love to see you. It's been a while eh? We should catch-up, before you forget us, old man. Just visit, you don't have to be anyone else. Just be yourself."_

Mike told him the other day. A proof that no secret remains a secret. Not that his bisexuality is a secret one nor he tried to hide it when he was at the university. He just doesn't go and parade it all the way. Then came being in the army.

  
He flinches as a body slams on his good shoulder following a slur of apology. He almost trips but his good leg kept him steady. Never-minding what just occured John tries to dance his way to the counter, ordering a shot of whiskey. Two or three would be good. He places his jacket on the empty corner under the counter as his whiskey arrives.

John scans the crowd that bathes in different shades of light. Most of the couches were occupied with a group of people, in two's, in three's, some were kissing softly, some where making out and some almost naked. He shakes his head with a small smile on his face as he downs the shot before ordering again. To his surprise, the bartender sets a good bottle of his favourite whiskey in front of him with a note that reads: _Enjoy the night. - SH_

"Courtesy by the hot guy on your left by the far corner. Sir," the bartender whispers in his ear over the loud music.

John looks up at the bartender as the lad, half of his age, winks at him. John gave a tight lipped smile and proceeds to eye the whiskey before surveying the crowd again. His gaze roams around almost afraid to reach the far left corner when he didn't have to. John swallows hard as his gaze lands on long legs clad in tight black skinny jeans and black boots striding towards him. He runs his eyes up and sees the most beautiful man he had ever seen. Tall, slim figure, white shirt hung lose, a ruffled mess of curls, prominent cheekbones (that should be illegal) and eyes that, at first, John was confuse with the colour that doesn't make sense. But when they're a breath away, the set of eyes captivates him even more. A hue of sea green that darkens to a touch of grey when a sliver of light passes.

Long lithe fingers slid over the collar of his shirt, grazing the skin on the back of his neck and his eyes almost closes in pleasure. He wills himself not to but that's when John felt the smile of the man against his lips that he allows his eyes to finally close and surrender. Soft lips, kissing him, hands roaming and carefully sliding inside his shirt, feeling his skin, shy at first, but John has gone half hard enough for a stranger to be shy at him. He doesn't even do public displays, even with his former relationships, alas from a stranger, but then again, he was half hard to mind. So as the straining bulge nudging against his side. His jeans seem to tighten even more with that realization. He _did_ that. Fuck the people around them.

The soft lips against him warm, hungry with passion as John's hands slowly makes its way to the man's firm arse, clad in sinfully tight skinny jeans. He grabs and pulls opening his legs to accomodate the man's slim figure and prompting their kiss to deepen. The lithe fingers claws behind his back and whoever made the groaning sound he's unsure. All that matters now is the man in his arms and his fingers in a tangle of glorious curls. Every touch gets bolder, every sound gets needy, every moaning while their tongues spear with each other. Their kissing halts as their ragged breathing catches in them and John hears the deepest baritone voice against his ear.

"I fucking need your touch, doctor. _Now_."

John's breath stills but before he could even ask this person knew how he knew he's a doctor, he is being drag towards the bathroom already.

The bathroom is neat and smells of some high classed perfume, thank God and there's no one around. The heat between them sobers as John winces when the stranger pushes him inside the stall. Slim yet strong, this man is more than something.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry—I didn't—"

Just as the door closes, he didn't let the stranger finish because John was past of apologies and anything else. He growls low and attacks the sexy man in front of him with a fierce kiss. The man moans against his lips and John's dick twitches and aches some more.

"Free me," He orders with a firm voice. A voice he hadn't used ever since the army. All those stolen moments with a fellow horny mate, when the only comfort were the lights out. Commanding and strong that even he was surprised he could still muster. What more was surprising, the man in front of him almost melts when he hears it. Interesting. Just as fast as lightning, the stranger was on his knees in front of him, pulling the hem of his shirt off his jeans. John watches as the man eyes his bulge hungrily, those lithe fingers prepares to open his fly slowly. But John has other plans in mind. So he drops an order again.

"Use your teeth,"

The stranger's eyes flutters, breathing charging up again, his own white shirt halfway unbuttonned, where John sees a glimpse of perky nipples and a paler chest. The sight almost made his mouth water. He glides his tongue over his lower lip, just as the man makes an eye contact and does the same. Without breaking their gazes, the man smirks playfully and proceeds with his given task. He swallows hard, eating the groan he would've soundly made as his jeans and black boxers pool below his feet. The cold air from the air-condition gave him shivers, but the man's heated gaze was enough to comfort him. Then it began—he closes his eyes once again from the torture of pleasure that his former relationships failed to give. The warm mouth of the stranger sucking his dick made John's mind unable to think. His breathing deepens for every slide of tongue, for every swipe over the slit of his aching head. His balls tightens and goosebumps breaks all over his body. For every pump he receives, for every groan and moan his partner makes, pleasure flows freely inside him. For every twist of palm on his thickening shaft and for every sound their bodily fluid makes, the man's mouth versus his cum. And before John explodes, unashamedly, he wants to taste that. He opens his eyes just in time as the man relaxes for a bit and John uses this opportunity. Time for the giver to receive.

"Come here, I want to taste you," John  
whispers, breathes, his voice ragged, clouded with desire. Never in his life he felt this strong from someone. Not for a woman, not even a man. Without question, the man stands up and leans back against the closed door. John moves forward, crowding the man's space. The stranger who's now removing his skinny and pants, is definitely taller than he is, so he need to reach up, but then again he need not. For the man slides down in his eye level and leans in to kiss him again. John went for a slow one this time. He experiments as to what will make the man produce those needy sounds again. He leaves the man's lips and proceeds on kissing his jaws. The alluring smell of musk of sweat between the hollow of the stranger's neck made John feel heady. Damn this stranger for smelling so good. John, then, removes the rest of the man's shirt. He watches in a daze for a bit as the pale chest before him moves up and down, flushes in red and continues to breathe heavily. He slowly puts a palm over the stranger's heart and feels the rush of heartbeats from within, there was a certain change in it, that when he looks up, he sees it. John sees it at the vulnerable state of the man in his arms. Those beautiful eyes that are staring at him with pure affaection, John knew, it mirrors his. He hears a soft, "Oh," as he lowers his mouth taking the stranger's nipples between his teeth. He laps at them continuously as the stranger arches his back and squirms in his arms.

"Oh god... Oh god.. Please..." The baritone voice whispers. John holds the man's hip in place by a hand while his other searches for his prize. And after some blind fumbling John finds it hard and warm in his palm. He pulls the long flushed shaft and twists and pulls and twists again, massaging the heavy balls in his hands, and he bits the man's ear, the one he could reach, then swirls his tongue over. He guides the stranger while he fucks the hole the hole shape he made with his palm. He guides the man through orgasm whisperinf the dirtiest words known to no man but only from the depths of his mind that he never said before. Until the man was coming hard in his hand in spurts of creamy white, until John's own cock is rutting against the strong leg he's leaning in. Not long after he closes his eyes and he is coming as well, like he had never done before. They share a kiss again, a passionate one, then a soft one, then the butterfly ones. They cleaned their mess and then smiled to one another. As if they're not strangers. John's limp could kill him later at home until he falls asleep but for now, he burrows his face between the man's neck and the man hums sleepily cuddling him closer. The one door remains locked from the others, standing strong capable of their weight. They stayed that way until a group of men barges inside the bathroom shouting malicious words and a name John had never heard. The door forcefully slams open and crashes behind them.

###

The police cordons the whole place as John watches from afar. He's not hurt from the commotion earlier, no. But the stranger he's with got knocked out and is now resting on one of the ambulance. An hour ago, after the mind blowing orgasm he experienced. A group of four men barged inside the bathroom shouting malicious name and another name he haven't heard. Before they could even react the door slams behind them where they were leaning. The force could've killed the man. Fortunately, John's instincts took over and he pulls him out of danger. The door continues to fall on them and because the man was on top of him, it crashes over knocking the man out.

John glances to the ambulance where his stranger was resting. His stranger, the man who strode into his life and made him feel like a new man. That he is sure of. But what he should have done was ask his name first. Now, there is a police officer with a greying hair talking, murmuring and patting the shoulder of his man like a worried father. He smiles to himself, feeling he doesn't have to worry anymore. After all, he should worry to himself. He killed two men tonight, one who was about to stab his stranger and other who was about to shoot him. But then again, fortunately, his skills in twisting someone's neck and numerous bones hasn't left him. And so two dead, two unconscious, that should be fine. No one will know what happened to them. He did struggle to get them out of the bathroom because of his limp but he was able to and no one saw them. That's the important thing. He was also silently grateful to the bartender who called the emergency and the police when they saw the commotion. Turns out, the four men were members of a wanted drug syndicate. And if they're looking for the stranger who was with him, who was the stranger to them? Is he a member of the syndicate as well? He didn't need to find out. He needed to get out.

Hence, there he is, looking over the sleeping form of his stranger from the ambulance. He sighs, he didn't plan his evening to end this way. But what else he could do? He limps his way once again inside the club where the customers were waiting and searches for his jacket with his phone on the pocket that he left under the counter. It was still there, really, lucky him. He was on his way out when again when he puts his hand inside the pocket of his jacket when it clutches something. By the texture, it's a paper, he reads the note and was surprised to see it was the note that the bartender gave him from the man. But now on the back of it, there was another note that he didn't saw earlier, scrawled unruly, it says, _"The name is Sherlock Holmes, and the address is 221b, Baker Street. Care for a round?"_

A round? What round? John thought of the whiskey, Sherlock gave him. But then his mind went _there_ —and— _Oh_. He felt himself flush and John grins at himself.

The counter is empty so he tears a piece of paper from the order slip and writes. He calls for the bartender, still in a trance from what happened but attentive when he gave the last of his bills for a tip and hands him the note and a word. The bartender nods tucking away his tip. John takes his jacket and walks outside.

Across the street, another club is crowded and unaffected by the earlier events. The rhythmic moving of sweat-drenched bodies swaying to the loud music the feel of soft warm skin remains in John's memories as he leaves Pride Haven and his nightmares behind.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was actually an old draft. One of those ideas I've written around March. When I took hiatus because of my on and off relationship with anxiety. 
> 
>  
> 
> _This is also dedicated for my sunshine. Blue, I can feel your support even of we're not talking. I am grateful for that. I'm sorry for not being around you for a long time. I hope you'll like this—despite being just porn. Lol._
> 
>  
> 
> Your comments are much appreciated. It could save a life. Thank you for reading! Chat me up @allsovacant on Twitter.


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